


Remember When

by Eternallydeancas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Musician!fic, lawyer!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:12:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallydeancas/pseuds/Eternallydeancas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is many things. One of them, he hadn't considered, is clueless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember When

**Author's Note:**

> So the inspiration for this happened while I was at a concert last night. During a particular song, I just imagined what Destiel would look like if it were shoved into a popular band. I do not own anything Supernatural related and all of the credit for names, personalities, etc. is due to the writers of Supernatural.

The roar of the crowd has increased to a deafening volume and Dean feels the familiar tension building between his shoulders at warp speed. Jo strolls by, tuning her bass, and flashes him an excited grin. Where Dean hates the build up, Jo thrives on the energy, somehow transforming the nerves into hard motivation.

"Ready Dean?" Someone taps his shoulder and tapes a mic wire to the back of his neck so it won’t go flying when he’s jumping around on stage. He smiles gratefully and flexes his fingers, his eyes scanning the crew area for his guitar. There it is, resting alongside Ash’s, both waiting to be brought out once the musicians have taken their places.

"You look like you could use some weed," a deep, familiar voice interrupts Dean’s frantic observations and he barks out a nervous laugh. As good as lighting up sounds right about now, they don’t have the time. Or the image, according to Sammy.

 

"They ever teach the D.A.R.E. program when you were in school? Or was that  _after_  your time, old man?”

"Shut the fuck up, Dean," Cas replies steadily, as if commenting on the weather.  _Oh, it’s raining. Kinda cold outside. Shut the fuck up, Dean._

Dean stifles a manic giggle and sneaks a peek at Cas’ hands. They guard Cas’ sheet music and even when Dean  _knows_  he has it all memorized, the pianist never fails to keep it with him for big shows. Little shows, private affairs, he doesn’t care about - something about dicking around more than performing. Big shows are more worrisome.  Bigger audience, more people to disappoint if they fuck up. Which they never do. Tonight isn’t about to be the exception.

"Thirty seconds!" Chuck, their manager, yells as he makes his rounds, weaving past unused equipment and security guards.

Dean catches Cas’ eye and raises an eyebrow.  "To failure?”

"To failure," Cas agrees and steps out beyond the curtain before Dean, crossing the stage in fluid strides. Once Cas hits his mark, Dean is next, with Jo, Ash, and Benny pulling up the rear. Various crew members hand out instruments to the crescendo of screams from the crowd.

Waving to the writhing, mass of people, Dean realizes he’s forgotten which city they’re in. In his defense, their current hotel looks exactly like the one they had in Minneapolis. And that was a week ago.

After subtly asking Benny and getting a shrug in response, he shoves the drummer’s head away and steps carefully around the sea of wires preceding Cas’ booth. This section of the stage is reserved for the keyboard and the fog machines and Dean’s not confident enough that he won’t accidentally break something. When he finally looks up, he sees Cas’ amused smirk and the slight shake of his head.

"We’re in Aloe City, Dean."

Thank God for best friends and mind reading. Cas tilts his chin toward the screaming crowd and flashes a gummy grin.  Dean winks - fucking  _winks_  - and switches his mic back on. Turning to the wave of obnoxious calls, he says, “Alright, Aloe City, let’s do this!”

And Benny, taking the cue, starts pounding the beat for the first song on their set.  Jo walks a couple of lines before Ash joins in, blending the sounds into a perfect unison. Dean loves every second of it. Almost doesn’t want to start singing when he hears Cas prepare to lead him in. But the music pulls on him, thrusts him forward with giddy laughter, and the words are pouring out of his mouth faster than they had from his hands.

And they’re off.


End file.
